


bedroom hymns

by orphan_account



Category: Lucifer (Comic), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: M/M, lorphiel, mentions of past dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I do not think it is a sin, Lorin, and I do not think I have fallen for wanting you. One should never worship false idols, but Lorin, you were made to be worshiped.”





	bedroom hymns

**Author's Note:**

> In which Raphael is a virgin, Lorin is not, and they teach each other how to make love.

…

“Nothing makes sense anymore. I was wrong, **wrong** about so much. Everything that **mattered** ,” Raphael’s voice is low as he speaks, and Lorin dares to think he senses an ounce of anxiety in it, despite the certainty of his tone. His hand reaches out to cup Lorin’s cheek and Lorin’s heart speeds up tenfold, beating loud, excited in his ears—and he fears Raphael can hear the rapid pulse of it. To say he found Raphael attractive, interesting, and most of all genuinely caring would be an understatement. He is positively enthralled and enraptured by the angel—would fall to his knees and pledge devotion to him if it didn’t seem so dramatic.

“What matters is…uh…” He starts but is cut off when Raphael’s lips steel over his in a quick but deep kiss. The world beneath Lorin’s feet collapsing into a million shards with it, his mind reeling trying to grasp onto the reality of the situation.

“I want you Lorin Hammon, in every way possible it is for another being to want another.”

“Oh, god,” Lorin swears, wonders if he’s going to hell for taking God’s name in vain in front of an angel. But his pondering doesn’t last long before Raphael is peppering kisses across his jaw and throat. He moans, neck arched to allow better access, “I want you too.”

Smiling bright enough to cut through the dark night, Raphael takes Lorin’s hand, grasping it tightly as he leads the boy indoors and up the rickety wooden stairs, Lorin nearly losing his footing in his eager anticipation—his mouth dry with it. His palm sweaty and slippery against Raphael’s but the angel grips him tightly despite it. The house Lorin found for the night was abandoned, a room upstairs still furnished with a stained mattress and worn blankets. But at least he didn’t have to do anything he regretted to earn a safe sleep that night.

Bed beckoning him, Lorin collapses against it with a thump, nearly sneezing when a wave of dusts rises with his descent. Raphael seems to hesitate for a moment, stuck between two worlds before he approaches Lorin, the mattress dipping and groaning as he kneels above Lorin’s prone form.

“I am aware the carnal pleasures exist, but I must say I have never indulged myself in the pleasures of the flesh before.”

Lorin’s body sings with the statement, gasping when Raphael’s hand travels down his stomach, settling between his thighs to palm at Lorin’s crotch. Lorin is surprised to find he’s hard, painfully so already, cock straining begging to be free against the zipper of his jeans. Raphael’s mouths over Lorin’s jaw, pecking lightly at the corner of Lorin’s mouth and Lorin struggles to stay focused on the moment, wondering how disappointed Raphael would be when he found out. Lorin may be about to take an angel’s virginity—and let him be damned for it—but Lorin had so many men he couldn’t count them on all his fingers or toes.

Filled with a dark fear, that Raphael may reject him with disgust and disappointment he opens his mouth and speaks, eyes forced closed against judgement.

“I’m not a virgin,” Lorin pants out quick and rapid, breath wrapped and twisted around the curves of his ribs, he avoids Raphael’s stunning eyes as the angel studies him thoughtfully. The weight of his gaze almost too much to bare, Lorin presses shaking hands to Raphael’s broad, tanned, and impossibly warm chest.

“You have lain with another?” Raphael murmurs, fingers gentle as they ghost over Lorin’s cheeks.

A bright petal pink flush graces Lorin’s cheeks spreading to his neck as he nods, his chest and shirt feeling all too tight, but Raphael’s body remaining above him is a grounding comfort. He swallows hard, still avoiding Raphael’s eyes, his stomach churning with shame as the bitter taste of bile rose in his mouth, “I’ve done things I’m not proud of for food or a warm bed for the night.”

He remembers the weight of various cocks on his tongue, the sharp saltiness of their seed, and how his stomach turned with it. He’d puked all over a man’s shoes the first time he’d sucked cock and didn’t receive a dime for it. He remembers the first time he’d been intimately breached; the man’s cock too big and Lorin cried—much to the other’s delight—as he was ruthlessly pounded into. He limped for days after, burning with shame and pain, but the week worth of McDonald’s it bought was worth it—or so he’d tried to convince himself.

Loathing when tears prick his eyes, he distracts himself with the sounds of Raphael’s deep breathing. He stiffens when he feels a hand on his cheek urging him to look up, and its only when the angel pleads a soft and kind, “Lorin,” do their eyes connect, “there is no shame in what you did to survive, and it is not my place to judge.” Instantly feeling like a fool for such thoughts, Lorin knows Raphael’s words are honest and he detests himself for initially doubting them.

“You still want me?” He asks again, yearning and needing the verbal confirmation of another reassurance.

“I have wanted you since the moment you stole my feather.”

Heart racing, threatening to beat and burst from the caverns of his chest, Lorin clings to Raphael, running careful hands over the ridges where Raphael’s stunning wings sprout from the blades of his shoulders, “I have wanted you since the second I stole it.”

Like a whisper, a soft-spoken promise, the first rise of a spring daffodil breaking through the harsh winter frost, their lips meet. Hesitant at first before growing in desperation, Lorin’s tongue seeking entrance until Raphael yields, their tongues meeting and tangling, a knot of pure mating desire.

They undress quickly, frantic and foolish in their movements, bumping elbows and knees as they pull off pants and shirts. Once it is done, and they sit before each other, illuminated silver by the small beams of moonlight, Lorin’s skin hot and itchy with expectation.

“You are beautiful,” Raphael says in awe, hand stroking down Lorin’s cheek as his eyes unhindered take in Lorin’s skinny form.

Accepting the words, as much as he wishes to hide from the other’s gaze, Lorin offers an awkward, easy smile. His own eyes freely roaming, devouring every inch of Raphael’s exposed tanned and toned skin, Raphael’s large cock—Lorin’s own feeling small in comparison—flushed and leaking between his thighs, “I could say the same about you."

“Show me yourself, Lorin Hammon, show me how you feel good.”

Lorin has never moved so quickly in his life, scrambling as he reaches for his backpack on the floor, he pulls out a small bottle, flipping the cap open with a pop. Slicking his fingers up with lube, body nearly trembling with need, he carefully circles his puckered hole, aware that Raphael watches his every movement. With wet and sticky fingers Lorin presses two in, tossing his head back with a moan, the sound of it reverberating off the cold, dusty walls.  He didn’t open himself often, usually the men that took their pleasure from him enjoyed the act themselves, until they’d worked him loose, nearly ready for their fist or cock—or two cocks if the men he was with were so inclined to share him or use him in such a manner.

He tries not to think of that now, focusing on thoughts Raphael, his deep honey voice and soft forgiving smile, as he scissors his fingers, breath coming faster as he curls them, finding his prostate.

“Lorin,” Raphael groans sounding wrecked before they truly even begun, coming to rest between his pale thighs as he works himself further open, inserting a third finger and relishing the dull burn and stretch of it. Lorin shivers when he feels big hands grasp and encircle his small ankles, spreading and forcing his legs wider, until his thighs ache with it.

Casting Lorin deep in shadow, Raphael hovers over him, peppering kisses and licking at Lorin’s inner knee. Lorin’s pumping fingers halting in their movement as a wave of pleasure surges up his spine.

“Raphael,” He whines, feeling the archangel smile against his skin, the puffs of his breath tickling Lorin’s leg hair.

“I do not think it is a sin, Lorin, and I do not think I have fallen for wanting you. One should never worship false idols, but Lorin, you were made to be worshiped.”

The sincerity in Raphael’s voice in nearly terrifying and Lorin’s heart clenches and wrenches with it, pumping a pleasant warmth through his veins, blushing and heating his tender skin, “I—I will worship you until I die,” Lorin says, rather stunned by Raphael’s declaration, fully meaning every word, the love blooming unpredictably within in him. After his father’s religious upbringing he’d never thought he’d worship anything again—or have make love to an angel for that matter. His head reels with the thought, they really were making love, and Lorin might have been used by various men but he’d never been loved—worshipped—before.

Lorin’s fingers resume their movements, working quick and fast into his eager hole, curling against his prostate repeatedly until his head is light and the thread barren itchy blanket under his back feels smooth and silken. He’s at a loss, a loss for words, for everything truly, his world narrowing down to the small abandoned house and Raphael—beautiful, wonderful Raphael—who places kisses against Lorin’s thighs, eyes hungry and heavy lidded as he watches Lorin’s fingers move. The knowledge—the voyeurism—of it enough to make Lorin’s cock twitch, precum, wet and sticky against his flat belly.

He’s getting close, the peek of his pleasure rising, the room spinning with it. It unfurls in his belly, leaves him a drooling and gasping disaster. His legs shake and quiver as the world bleeds bright white starlight before his eyes. His hips lift and his body arches off the bed as he comes undone, the shout he screams no doubt heard in the heavens above. He comes down, sweat, cum and tear covered, aware that Raphael is holding him through the aftermath of it.

Raphael’s lips find his own, a quiet desperation in the way they kiss. Lorin finding himself breathless and keening, fingers falling from his hole, so he can place a slippery grip on Raphael’s shoulders, needing a way to ground himself.

“I want to claim you, Lorin Hammon. In every way possible,” Raphael breathes against Lorin’s lips, and Lorin swallows the words down.

“Claim me, please,” Lorin begs, turning so he kneels on the squeaky bed, knees and hand firmly placed against the blankets, ass raised and presented—waiting. And Raphael does just that, guiding his cock to Lorin’s ready and stretched entrance, the head of it popping in as Lorin’s nails dig into the old dirty mattress as the feeling jolts up his spine. Raphael’s hips twitch, working deeper into Lorin until he’s fully seated.

“Lorin,” Raphael groans, face constricted and blissed, “You feel—”

“Tight? Warm? Amazing?” Lorin laughs but it leaves his lungs more as a gasp as Raphael begins to thrust, a little unpracticed but hard and meaningful in his pace. Chewing his lip, Lorin rocks back each time Raphael cants his hips, arms almost giving out with each thrust. His body overstimulated from his recent orgasm and it’s almost too much.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Raphael repeats like a prayer, working into Lorin quickly now, his hands framing Lorin’s face as he closes his eyes and rests chin against Lorin’s shoulder. It’s intimate, close, and far too kind, bringing tears of joy clinging to Lorin’s black inky lashes, tears Raphael shushes and licks away. He’s never truly known a kindness like this until he’d met Raphael.

Grasping Lorin’s shoulder Raphael presses a kiss to Lorin’s cheek, his thrusts quick and deep. He’s getting close, Lorin can tell, in the tight way Raphael holds him, his breathing erratic and thrusts frantic. Lorin closes his eyes, and pants, toes curling with anticipation and pleasure as Raphael drives into him. A moment later, Raphael is groaning, loud and clear, a lion’s roar in Lorin’s ear, spilling his seed within Lorin’s willing entrance, and Lorin greedily accepts all that is given, feeling the hot sticky burst of it fill him to the core. Moaning as Raphael pull out, his spend leaking from Lorin’s loose hole, staining and wetting his thighs.

When it’s over, they collapse together in a tangled heap, exhausted and sweaty, Lorin quivers, a grin spreading across his face as he giggles. Green feathers splay out like grass beneath them, cool and soft against Lorin’s skin. Raphael gazes over his lover, one arm thrown behind his head while the other hand reassuringly strokes Lorin’s shoulder, “Do I dare ask what has you filled with such mirth?”

Counting the water stains on the ceiling Lorin smiles, “Did that really happen? Because my Dad would kill me if he knew I’d blasphemed like this.”

…

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write a kinda canon verse fic for these two since their sex scene was only two panel :( but this was a lot of fun to write so expect more of them from me!! thank you to my beta sweetpeaasylum for making this readable!!


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